


Peace Through Tyranny

by BasslineRaver



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Physical Abuse, Slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 11:52:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6050608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BasslineRaver/pseuds/BasslineRaver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Quintessons have returned, and in a show of power, dominated the recovering forces of the Cybertronians. Slavery coding, combined with forced submission coding have returned the Cybertronians into an age of slavery. Now the Autobots and Decepticons live together under Quintesson rule, trying to make the best of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peace Through Tyranny

“Can we hear another story, please!” 

“Yes! Tell us about a time where you went off world by yourself! Without asking!!” 

Kup couldn’t help but feel a pang of shame and regret for the sparklings, but hid it under a smile. “Oh, you’re pulling my leg. See? Look,” he pulled at his own leg and made the little group of sparklings laugh, “It was a long time ago, and I wanted to go see this new planet…” 

Skywarp hitched his wings up a little higher. He remembered being able to go off Cybertron. He glanced over towards the grouping of sparklings that Kup was tending to. He was currently helping clean up the area, someplace akin to a nursery or day care, and almost wished he hadn’t been assigned to it. 

“I’m gonna take a quick break here,” he called out, and one of the others that was cleaning up the area, Blast Off, held his hand up in acknowledgement. Skywarp hurried outside and then plunked down onto a bench. 

Cybertron was no longer at war, and was in a state of rebuilding. It would have been amazing, if it wasn’t for the fact that it was all driven by a force above all the Cybertronians themselves. 

The Quintessons had returned, and with a vengeance. With the Cybertronians fighting amongst themselves in Autobots versus Decepticons, the Quintessons easily came in with their full forces and conquered both sides. They resumed their supposed ‘rightful’ place over the Cybertronians. They could have easily destroyed the beaten forces, but instead opted to return the Cybertronians to an age of slavery. Each mech and femme was forced into the Quintesson laboratories and a terrifying program was uploaded into each of their processors, deep rooted and impossible to remove without causing damage. It forced obedience to any Quintesson orders, but went a step further than just obedience. It forced a full personality change, changing any strong will into a submissive one. 

The Quintessons then completely moved Cybertron itself to be a satellite planet of their own home planet, Quintessa, keeping their new race of slaves close. Any Cybertronian was forbidden from leaving the planet without permission from a Quintesson, and even then, it was usually to work in hard labor on one of the many colony planets of the Quintessons, or in a domestic setting on Quintessa itself. 

On Cybertron itself, resigning to their fate, the Cybertronians tried to make the best of it. Instead of fighting amongst one another, they now worked to revive their planet to its former glory through rebuilding and repopulating. Any new sparklings that were brought online were snatched up by the Quintessons and given the coding. It was both a blessing and a curse, as they never knew war, but they never knew freedom. 

Skywarp pulled one leg up onto the bench and wrapped his arms around his knees, watching the passer-bys in the smaller streets of the city he was stationed in. 

There was some amount of freedom on Cybertron. It almost functioned like a normal life, except that every bot’s movements were tracked, and any attempts at straying too far from their assigned job of the day or however long the assignment was, would lead to punishment. 

“Hey Skywarp!” One of the passerbys spotted him and hurried over to greet him. Skywarp looked up, recognizing it as one of the Autobots he had forged a friendship with.

“Hey Hound,” Skywarp waved, lowering his leg as he did so. 

“On break? Or just watching things today?” Hound sat down on the bench next to him.

“Oh… Kinda both,” Skywarp shrugged, “Kup was telling stories to the sparklings and they wanted to hear about when he was free. I didn’t wanna stick around for that, makes me feel crummy.”

Hound didn’t say anything, but gave him a comforting pat on the shoulder. Skywarp’s wings lowered and he stared down at the ground, poking at one of the corners of a metal tile with his foot. “You can still fly if you want right? And you’ve been able to make friends with everyone, though reluctantly at first. That’s better than being offlined,” Hound offered. 

“Yea, it’s okay,” Skywarp looked over his shoulder, “I should get back to cleaning that place up. I’ll see you later?” 

“Indeed,” Hound stood, “I’ll be in the district for a few more weeks I think, so I’ll see you around!” 

Skywarp stretched as he stood up and then held his fist out, smiling. Hound gave him a friendly fistbump in return, then let him go. 

Hound sighed and turned, continuing on to his own destination, working in one of the labs on Cybertron that helped grow organic food for the Quintessons to sell as delicacies. He knew as well as anyone else that their new Cybertron was a prison. A pretty one, and one that gave the illusion of freedom, but a prison none the less. That’s what made it all the more painful to live in. 

Hound waved to a few passers by and then transformed and drove the rest of the way to the labs. Once he returned to his root mode and made his way into the lab, he called out.

“Shockwave! I’m here! You can head on break,” Hound said. 

“Oh wonderful. I have been needed to get a bit of refueling in,” Shockwave pushed back from the desk and inclined his head in greeting. His gun hand had been replaced with a normal hand, another form of the forced pacifism that the Quintessons had imposed on the Cybertronians. Any weapons had been forcefully removed, and if they were too well integrated in their bodies, completely nullified and left as a terrible reminder of their uselessness. 

“How have the sproutlings been doing with the new formula?” Hound crouched down next to a bench and peered at a row of small plants, not being able to hide his smile at seeing how well they were growing. 

“I feel that they need more nitrogen,” Shockwave leaned down as well, and his head fins pinned back, “But I’m worried that might cause an imbalance in the root system.” 

“We can try it with one as a test? We have a good amount and we can apply our findings with it to others,” Hound poked lightly at one of the plant leaves, his gentle smile never leaving his face. “Look at how small but full of life they are! We’ve done a good job.” 

Shockwave sighed, but it wasn’t a sigh of exasperation. Hound’s enthusiasm was infectious. He patted Hound fondly on the shoulder. 

Hound stared up at him and then gasped, “Shockwave. Go on break! I don’t want you overworking yourself at all. I know I’m not your boss but… Well, I’m your friend right? And friends worry about one another.”

“You are indeed my friend,” Shockwave agreed, “I’m going, I’m going. You needn’t give me that look!” 

Hound had been ready to launch into the saddest optics he could manage to urge Shockwave to go on break, but his expression instantly changed and he smiled once more. “Enjoy your break!” he said cheerily, and turned, picking up a data pad and a stylus. He got to work making notes and occasionally very carefully touching a few of the leaves of the sprouts. 

Shockwave walked a bit slowly into a side room, a smaller one the mechs that worked at the lab had commandeered as a break room. Though their movements were tracked and they were given assignments, those that lived on Cybertron did have some moments of freedom. Shockwave slumped down on a couch and stretched his arms out, then put his hands behind his head. He turned his single optic up towards a holo-screen that was broadcasting local news. There was never anything remotely negative on the news, if only because there was nothing to report on it. No robberies, no fights, nothing. 

“... The next solar storm will be approaching within the cycle, so try not to go outside,” Bluestreak, the current reporter said, “If you must go places, stay to the underground tunnels. The reports from the last storm have indicated a smaller percentage of medical bay arrivals. Let’s try to keep it down to a minimum this time around, and keep ourselves safe!” 

“Oh no,” Shockwave vented a heavy sigh. “Those… Quintessons…” He couldn’t actually manage a proper insult, as part of the coding. 

The Quintessons, in moving Cybertron, had placed it in their own star system. This however, did not bode well for the planet which hadn’t been by such an active sun. Nearly weekly solar storms often hit Cybertron, which in turn, caused any Cybertronian caught outside to experience negative symptoms, from disorientation to being berth ridden for a day. Repeated exposures required hospitalization. 

“Hound! Be sure to close the outer shutters when you leave tonight,” Shockwave called out. “The next solar storm is forecasted for the next cycle.” 

“Oh no!” Hound responded, “Okay I’ll make note of it, thanks.” 

The only reason why it was often forgotten, is that the Cybertronians weren’t used to it. Cybertron was previously in a position in the star system that was quite far from the star itself. 

Shockwave just groaned a little in annoyance and dimmed his optic as he took a bit of rest in his break. His cycling evened out and he returned to a calm state, even a happy one. Before he knew it, he had passed into a light recharge. After what felt like only a few clicks, Shockwave had startled awake and found a cooling blanket over his frame. He held it up, looking at it, then lowered it down over his lap. 

“Hound, I am up,” he stated, “I apologize for recharging.” 

“Oh don’t apologize!” Hound came hurrying in from the labs and looked at him, “I know you were working in the outer fields on Quintessa only last cycle. They probably overworked you, didn’t they?” Hound sat down across from Shockwave.

“Of course they did. Why would they do any work themselves?” Shockwave said bitterly. He gripped at the blanket and pulled it over himself, turning and shifting so his back was facing Hound. 

“You just rest,” Hound said, then thought, “In fact, you should go home early! Yes indeed. Go do that. I won’t mind at all.” 

Shockwave’s head fins twitched only slightly, but he turned and sat up. “You wouldn’t feel as if I am shifting the burden of lab work onto you, would you?” he asked. 

“Wouldn’t have suggested it if I wasn’t okay with it,” Hound said, a bright smile on his face. 

“Your enthusiasm is infectious,” Shockwave said, “I will head back to my apartment. If Skids is there, would you like me to tell him anything?” 

“Oh, uh,” Hound put a hand to his chin in thought. “Just tell him hello and I hope he’s doing well? I saw him last orbital cycle.” 

Shockwave nodded and stood, neatly folding the blanket up and placing it on the couch. “I will see you tomorrow then. Thank you Hound,” he said. 

“Of course! It’s what friends do for each other. Hey you should take a nice warm shower. I bet that would help you relax just a little too,” Hound stood as well. He waved and then headed back into the labs. 

Shockwave departed in the opposite direction, heading out of the labs and outside. He stopped before leaving, standing at a machine which checked him out of the shift at the labs, then proceeded to make his way outside.

He stopped to look at some of the greenery that had come as a result of the Quintessons. Large trees now dotted the roadways, as well as flowering plants. It gave a bit of life to the planet that was originally simply metal. 

Shockwave chose to walk along under the pathway that was lined by trees. Some of them he cultured himself and was happy to see them thriving. 

He made his way to the apartments, and checked in with a machine, letting it read his personal data. 

“Tracking,” Shockwave muttered, saying the word like it was vile and disgusting. He shook his helm, staring downwards as it checked him in and cautioned him that leaving the apartments without checking in once more would lead to punishment. The warning was displayed for every check in, though it never stopped being unnerving. With forced submission coding, even being yelled at or struck was terrifying. 

Shockwave arrived in his apartment. Each apartment housed two to four Cybertronians, depending on size and needs. Shockwave, being a larger mech with a higher energy consumption, was given an apartment with only a single roommate. Skids was not often home until late, but Shockwave never minded. He made a beeline to the washracks, then took a warm shower, just as Hound suggested. Tension eased out of his frame and soon he was leaning up against the wall of the stall, optic dimmed as he relaxed. He left the washracks and dried off, then left a note for Skids. 

_ ‘Skids, I am recharging early. Please do try to keep it down. Thank you. _

_ Post Script...’ _

Skids had to stop and laugh a bit to himself. Shockwave was the only bot he knew that would actually write out ‘post script’ instead of ‘p.s.,’ and it was amusing. 

_ ‘Can you please check in on Megatron? Thank you.’ _

Skids looked at the note as he got home and sighed. “Aw Shocks. O’ course I will,” Skids set the data pad with the note on it down, and quietly walked into his own room. He laid out on his berth and sighed happily, stretching out and taking a little break before going to find somebot that could contact Megatron.

Even though Skids knew he was under the Quintesson’s control, he didn’t feel sad about it. He was happy he didn’t have to fight anymore, and he was happy he got to hang out with all the extremely interesting Decepticons. He threw his hands all the way up and out on the berth, stretching out as much as he could. Being on Cybertron instead of a bunk on the Ark meant he had a full sized berth and he loved it. He had extra cooling blankets so he could bundle himself up happily and relax, and three pillows. Alternatively, he could use all the excess to make a blanket fort and read in it. 

Skids looked over to his massive collection of books, data pads, pamphlets, scrolls… anything that had information on any given subject. Being such an outlier as a super learner, Skids liked pretty much any subject he picked up. He was only mildly worried his collection would outgrow his room and he’d have to get rid of some things to make space for new things. He hopped up and looked over his collection, fully intent on rereading something, when he remembered he was going to help Shockwave.

“Aw frag. Right. Uh, who am I gonna go to…” Skids mumbled and went through his contact list on his HUD, making a few thoughtful noises as he did. He also shut the door of his room, just to be extra quiet for Shockwave’s sake. “Ah! Hey yea,” Skids said in agreement mostly to himself. 

/Tarn! Tarn. Tarn. Tarn. Are you at a show?/ Skids bugged the once most-feared member of the DJD, now a musician and overly shy about everything. Those that had been more outgoing or strong willed had extra coding implanted into their processors. Those that had been ruthless murders now flinched at the sight of a hand being raised towards them. They too had been forced into a domestic lifestyle, though they helped try to restore Cybertron as well, with the best of any talents that they had that wasn’t violence related. 

/I am going on stage within the joor, Skids. I may be able to help you now./ Tarn’s slightly melodious voice came over his comm system. /What is the matter?/

/Shocks is all upset and worried ‘bout Megs. If I remember correctly, you got Tesarus working down in the mines with him right? I don’t have his frequency so… Can you have him check in on Megatron for Shockwave?/ Skids asked. 

Tarn idly strummed the strings of an alien instrument that lay on the table across from him. /I should check on Tesarus as well. I shall check on both after my set and comm you with how they are doing./

/Thanks! And hey, how are you doing too? I know they’re moving you around a lot over on Quintessa doing shows… I hope nobody’s getting too exhausted?/ Skids asked worriedly. 

/Well we are popular, that is an undeniable fact. However, the masters do not like it when we do too many encores, they feel it’s something that was unpaid. W-we were beaten so badly we couldn’t go on show the next cycle./ Tarn’s vocals quavered and it sounded as if he was on the verge of tears. 

/Oh Tarn… It’ll be okay. They’re still feeding you right?!/ Skids asked. 

/Yes. Limited energon intake at the moment but we are being given a chance to refuel. I was offered a box of sweet gelled energon by a fan a few cycles ago but one of my masters threw it out./ Tarn had to pause and take a deep, almost shuddering intake. /I was punished for accepting it. They don’t view us as sentient beings, Skids. They view us as things to create profit./ 

/Aw Tarn. Just keep doing the best you can and when you come back over to Cybertron, let me know. I found an instrument you might like and we can learn to play it together. How’s that sound?/ Skids offered, trying to sound positive for him.

/I would like that, yes. Thank you Skids. I will also seek out Tesarus and see if he can check in on Megatron for Shockwave./ Tarn said, reminding both himself and Skids of the purpose of contact. 

/Oh right right. Yeah, do that okay?/ Skids laughed a little. /But take care of yourself the best you can./

/I will do so. Good cycle Skids./ Tarn ended the comm and then rested his helm in his hands. 

It was true that the Quintessons that were serving as his ‘managers’ to the public, but his ‘masters’ in private, were controlling every moment of his life. He was painted to be an idol, who lived a life of luxury and was adored and pampered. Fans would scrutinize his every moment in the public, and the Quintessons worked carefully to make it look good. In private however, that life of luxury could be nothing further from the truth. 

With the coding in full effect, Tarn had no power over his voice to possibly talk his way into freedom. The Quintessons took advantage of his now-passive nature and easily intimidated him into doing whatever they wished for him to do. When things didn’t go well after a period out in the public, the Quintessons would take out their frustrations on Tarn and his other musicians, from yelling and berating, to sometimes beating him or other things that could have been akin to torture. 

“Why. Are you not getting ready,” a voice hissed from behind Tarn. His armor plating pulled in close and he trembled as a tentacle wrapped itself around his neck. “You are not to be dawdling. Do you want me to remove your vocal synthesizer? It would render you absolutely useless and I could easily throw you into hard labor,” that tentacle pushed itself into Tarn’s mouth under his mask, delving deep into his mouth and down his throat. Tarn seized up and gagged, hyperventilating but unable to do anything else against the invasion. The Quintesson laughed and pulled away. 

“Pathetic,” it said and slapped Tarn on the helm, “Stand, slave. Get ready for your show. And try to put on a better show tonight. The people want to see a happy performer.” 

Tarn shuddered and stared at the floor, but nodded. “Yes master,” he murmured. His hands were trembling and he tried to keep himself calm. 

Thankfully, there was enough time before the show started and Tarn was able to calm himself down and put on a good show. He and the other musicians put on a good enough show that didn’t draw any ire from their masters afterwards. After the show, Tarn was in better spirits. He called up Tesarus in order to check in on Megatron. 

/Dear Tesarus. Are you able to take a moment’s break?/ Tarn asked.

/Tarn? Ah hey. I’m locked in alt mode so I can’t really go anywhere… But I can chat./ Tesarus’ voice had a deep rumble to it. 

/Oh goodness, they’re making you grind rocks again aren’t they?/ Tarn said. /I will be sure to get you to Nickel when you arrive back on Cybertron to make sure you’re okay. We don’t want a repeat of the time you had shrapnel stuck in your spark casing./ 

/No… That hurt. Eh. The guys try to be gentle enough down here though. X-Brawn took a little bit of time to grab a cloth and some cold water to wash me down earlier in the cycle. That was nice./ Tesarus said. /So it isn’t like I’m just forgotten down here. We take care of each other./

/That’s wonderful to hear Tesarus. I have a bit of a favor to ask you. Do you think you can seek Megatron out and inquire about his wellbeing? Shockwave asked Skids, and in turn, Skids contacted me, to contact you. It’s quite the game of contacts is it not?/ Tarn laughed. /I can only presume that Shockwave was unable to contact Megatron, perhaps because of an assignment./

/Oh that’s easy enough. I’ll call ol’ Megs over and see how he’s doing, then let you know./ Tesarus said. 

“‘Ay Megatron. C’mere, you got a sec?” Tesarus called out, though he tried to make his tone as gentle as he could. 

Megatron, like Optimus Prime, had an absurdly excessive amount of coding. Even yelling could be perceived as aggression would make him cower in fear. Megatron didn’t take this as anything negative, and hurried over to check on Tesarus. 

“Tesarus, are you okay? Do you need fuel or a break?” Megatron placed his hands on the grinder’s side paneling. 

“Oh no I’m fine. I just got asked by Tarn to see if you were okay. How are you holding up?” Tesarus asked. Megatron flinched as another load of raw material passed through Tesarus’ grinder, making quite a lot of noise, but Tesarus didn’t seem to mind it.

“I’m decent enough, thank you for asking,” Megatron said. “I have been down here for an extended work shift, and my back strut is starting to hurt, though.”

“Aw boss,” Hot Shot heard the conversation and came over, nudging his visor up onto his forehead as he did so. “You want to go sit down? We got that cleared out tunnel with the little alcove we’ve been hiding out in for little breaks.” 

“I’m not your boss,” Megatron said worriedly, “But do you think you could direct me to that alcove? I honestly could use a few moments to myself.” 

“Sure thing, bo-... Well, it’s just a term of endearment. Like how Chromia calls almost everyone ‘hon,’” Hot Shot said and laughed sheepishly. “This way then,” he waved. 

Megatron turned to Tesarus and took a moment to clear some rubble off his frame. “Tell Tarn that I am nearing the end of my current assignment. The masters do not want tired slaves,” Megatron said. “I should be on Cybertron to recover within a few cycles.”

“Can do,” Tesarus said. 

Megatron turned again, this time following Hot Shot. He was lead through the winding tunnels of the mines he knew so well, and even climbed up some small paths he didn’t even know existed. He barely fit through some of them, and if he had any of his warframe weaponry, he surely wouldn’t have fit. 

“We keep it hidden. Nobody says we can’t do it so… Well we’re careful,” Hot Shot grinned back at Megatron as they made their way through one final small crevice. “It’s even near the top so we got a little piping to get fresh air in! It’s great.” 

“This is news to me,” Megatron smiled. He saw Hot Shot disappear behind an outcropping that made the entrance of the alcove nearly impossible to see unless you were directly in front of it. The path continued at an opposite diagonal, as to better hide it. Megatron squeezed in and then looked a little surprised. It was as if it was a little break room, complete with a few boxes that had tarps covering them, some cleared out areas for resting in, and a few energon cubes in a corner.

“I know it ain’t much, but hey… It’s something,” Hot Shot spread out one of the tarps on the ground. Megatron sat down and his joints nearly creaked, but he sagged down in relief. 

“Thank you Hot Shot,” Megatron said. “I needed this time.” 

“You want me to leave? You said you wanted time to yourself,” Hot Shot gestured over to the opening. 

Megatron thought for a moment, then nodded. “Please.” 

“All right then boss… Megatron! Yeah, sorry ‘bout that. You just comm me if you need help getting back,” Hot Shot gave him a friendly salute and then hopped back out through the entrance and hurried off. 

“Ugh,” Megatron eased himself further down to sprawling out on the tarp. He stared up at the ceiling, noticing the small pipe that lead to the surface for fresh air. 

“... Gathering more materials…”

“... Having to use Sharkticons since those Cybertronians are useless.” 

Megatron flinched at hearing a conversation through the tube. It had to be two of the brutal guards that patrolled the mines, and were up on the surface. He listened carefully, curiosity getting the best of him.

“Yeah, they are useless. It’s funny to watch ‘em all flinch and cower when we hit one of them.”

“Well if it gets ‘em to get raw materials faster, we’re another step closer to starting this war effort.”

Now curiosity was full blown interest. Megatron pushed himself up, leaning on his hands as he listened. 

“Do you really think they’ll attack Quintessa? Are they that stupid?” 

“Some brutes might but I think the fights will start further out.” 

Megatron listened, worry blooming in his spark. If there was going to be a war, it certainly explained the excess of materials they had been gathering in the mines. A part of him was relieved that they wouldn’t be fighting in the Quintesson’s war. 

He sagged back down onto the ground and shuttered his optics. He was too exhausted to worry. 


End file.
